The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 5

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 5
Forgetting all pretense of Cecilia’s true manner, Nox casually deployed the very nickname he’d once given his foolish younger sister without hesitation.
Apparently unfazed by such crude language, Nox finally released his grip and stepped back.
“Tada. All better now. Surely there’s no one like your brother, right?”
He said this while spouting such nonsense.
‘The fact that he’s not even surprised suggests Cecilia’s real nature was probably similar to how I’m acting now.’
Siblings truly were siblings, it seemed.
‘Romance Fantasy Novel brother my foot.’
The very idea that siblings could be tender with each other—there was nothing more chilling than that.
“If you’re going to keep spouting useless drivel, get out of the way.”
Cecilia, her demeanor flipping like a coin, breezed past him into the dining room.
At the head of an unnecessarily long table sat Patrick, the patriarch of House Weberdine, who shared the same golden hair as the siblings—the very image of nobility.
The moment Cecilia took her seat to his right, the Marquess opened his mouth as if he’d been waiting for precisely this moment.
“You and your brother certainly took your time with pleasantries.”
He must have heard every bit of nonsense she and Nox had exchanged.
“I apologize. It’s just that… well, my brother wouldn’t let go of my head.”
“……Your head?”
The Marquess let out a small cough before inquiring after her well-being.
“Ahem. In any case, I hear you’ve been taking frequent walks lately. Your health has truly improved? No other concerns?”
Given how severely she had suffered from fever, the Marquess made it a habit to inquire after Cecilia’s condition whenever he happened to pass her in the sprawling manor.
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”
Cecilia’s body was indeed perfectly fine, so it wasn’t a lie.
“It’s fortunate—or rather, regrettable—how much more spirited you’ve become than expected.”
Nox, who had entered behind her, settled into the seat to the left and added his remark with ease.
“Nox.”
The Marquess gave his son a sidelong glance of reproach before turning his attention back to Cecilia.
“That is fortunate.”
Beneath his measured tone lay a profound, weighty affection for his daughter.
‘Ah.’
In that instant, her mouth went dry as sand.
The person before his eyes was not the cherished daughter he loved, but merely a stranger from another world.
At first, she had trembled only with the fear of being exposed.
Not knowing Cecilia’s true nature, she had no choice but to maintain distance and act evasively.
Yet when no suspicion arose whatsoever, a subtle discomfort only deepened instead.
Perhaps it was something akin to guilt.
‘I’ll find a way to get out of her body soon.’
She swallowed an apology she could not bring herself to voice.
As Cecilia, her gaze lowered, mercilessly tore apart the appetizer greens before her while wrestling with her tangled emotions, Patrick continued his conversation with Nox.
“How is the Capital Region faring?”
“As always. The blood still flows there, my lord.”
“What of the Approval?”
Nox frowned slightly for the first time, apparently uncertain what this Approval even was.
“I submitted the request, but it was rejected. His Majesty said that if you wish to receive Approval, you must come to the Imperial Capital yourself.”
“Ha, it seems His Majesty wishes to play political games for no reason. The thought of what those Dilanshe dogs might attempt already gives me a headache.”
Patrick set down his knife and fork, his appetite apparently gone, and clicked his tongue in displeasure.
‘Dilanshe? And Approval… could it be Approval related to succession?’
Cecilia, who had been listening quietly, abruptly stopped cutting her food.
Though she still knew little of this world, her investigations into ways to return home had taught her that the Imperial Court and the Holy Temple were currently at odds.
Therefore, the Temple, being a sacred house, would naturally be on poor terms with the Crown.
‘So the Imperial Court shouldn’t be able to interfere in House Weberdine’s succession at all?’
Just then, the Marquess, looking troubled, pressed his temples and spoke.
“Cecilia.”
“Yes?”
Cecilia, who had been lost in thought, lifted her head sharply.
Two pairs of eyes were now fixed upon her.
“With less than a month until the Relief Festival… this time, House Weberdine must attend in our family’s name.”
“Pardon?”
The Relief Festival was an annual event hosted by the Holy Temple, where temple coffers were opened to provide food for the hungry and priests personally healed the afflicted—a kind of large-scale charitable endeavor.
Being counted as the second most significant event after the Foundation Festival, the attendance of the “Saint” was considered essential to the Temple’s face.
She understood that, having recovered her health, she should participate in the Relief Festival, but she couldn’t understand why the subject had been brought up so suddenly.
Above all…….
“You’re not attending as a Saint?”
Not as a Saint, but under House Weberdine’s name—that was unexpected.
Cecilia asked in confusion, and Nox let out a thin sigh.
“Because you haven’t received Approval.”
“Approval?”
“Cecilia, to be formally recognized as a Saint, you must go to the Imperial Capital yourself and meet with His Majesty.”
‘What?’
Cecilia doubted her own ears.
‘To be formally recognized as a Saint’—the phrasing made it sound as though she wasn’t currently a Saint at all.
“So, so that means I’m not technically a Saint right now?”
Stunned, she stammered out the question, and the Marquis nodded at once, as though she’d asked the most obvious thing in the world.
“It’s unsatisfactory, but for now, that’s correct.”
Clang!
The Fork slipped from Cecilia’s hand.
No, what is this, Patriarch! You’re saying I’m a fake Saint?
* * *
“I’m a fake…….”
After the meal ended in awkward silence, Cecilia wandered through the Garden like someone who’d lost something precious.
Charles, her walking companion, rubbed against her feet in comfort, but nothing reached her.
It wasn’t that she harbored any attachment to the authority or position of Saint…….
‘Then why have I been locked away all this time!’
Most of all, the fact that Cecilia was a ‘fake Saint’ was deeply shocking in itself.
‘If that’s the case, everyone should have just stopped calling me a Saint!’
Cecilia had discovered she was a Saint only after Plans B and C had failed.
For reference, Plan B was to keep sleeping and waking repeatedly in bed until she could escape this long dog-dream, and Plan C was to strike her head with a heavy blow.
After going through Plan B and proceeding all the way to C, a Priest naturally appeared before her.
[The Saint has injured her head?]
[Yes, it is quite severe.]
[Hmm, the skin is torn, but it’s not a deep wound. Truly, one favored by the Divine still escapes grave injury despite the accident……]
[She struck her own head with a stone.]
[Oh, merciful Divinity!]
All to heal both the outside and inside of her head.
[If so much as a scar were to mar the Saint’s precious body, the Divine would grieve terribly.]
A procession of Priests had come and lectured her endlessly…….
‘So I naturally believed I was a real Saint.’
The reason she’d been certain the genre was a Romance Fantasy Novel, if the Book Transmigration theory held true, was precisely because of this title.
‘But regarding the matter of my being fake.’
When she pressed Melanie for details, she learned that if no one with exceptional Holy Power appeared, the title of ‘Saint’ was bestowed upon the eldest daughter of House Weberdine, the noble family that had supported the Holy Temple across generations.
After that, one had to receive the Emperor’s Approval to be formally appointed as Saint.
[Since no one surpassing House Weberdine’s Holy Power has appeared for three generations, surely Cecilia will become Saint this time!]
Melanie had proclaimed confidently, but Cecilia was skeptical.
In novels with such settings, the true Saint always appeared later!
“Then is the true Saint the protagonist?”
Lost in thought, Cecilia suddenly grasped something and let out a short exclamation.
“Ah, so I really am the protagonist.”
Wasn’t the Villainess Transmigration Story all the rage these days!
Perhaps it was that kind of story—where a transmigrated fake Saint secures her position before the true Saint appears and ultimately becomes the real protagonist.
‘In any case, if it really is a Book Transmigration, perhaps I can return once I see the ending.’
Her confusion was short-lived. Cecilia quickly formulated a new hypothesis—Plan E.
Originally, Plan D had been to enjoy herself ‘until I can return.’
In other words, the more new plans to return she could devise, the better.
But even Plan E—to see the ending of the story—faced a formidable obstacle.
‘The real problem is my completely empty head.’
How wonderful it would be if Cecilia’s memories were patched like a language update.
To progress the story, a trip to the Capital Region was essential, but the problem was that she was a complete novice at etiquette and dance.
A prince charming who perfectly leads a protagonist who can’t dance was the stuff of fairy tales, and it was obvious she’d be dragged along clumsily and scorned by both her partner and the surrounding nobility.
‘What was useful as a talent show performance in kindergarten—the Fork Dance—will be the most useless knowledge yet, but there’s no help for it.’
She had no choice but to ask the Marquis to find her a tutor.
“To have to study even here…….”
That was aristocratic etiquette—useless knowledge that evaporated the moment she returned to reality, to something like learning proper dance steps.
She was still caught in this pointless lament, spiraling without answer or meaning.
“Meow!”
Charles, who had been padding ahead of her, let out a small cry that snagged her attention.
“Charles?”
Then, as if to spite her, he turned decisively toward the familiar direction.
Cecilia, realizing where those small paws were headed, reached out too late.
“Charles! Not today—you can’t go in there!”
The giddy mood from the picnic and everything else had evaporated long ago.
More than that, fresh from the weight of reality crashing down on her—the obstacles ahead she’d have to overcome—she had no patience for his antics.
Yet Charles, intent on flaunting his surprisingly sharp intelligence, padded away with a swish of his tail.
Straight toward the rat hole.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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